Cautionary
by Novella.2.0
Summary: Desperate to get away from the memory of Neal, Emma's painful and shadier past drives her into the world of bail-bonds. But when a dangerous criminal's partner in crime, Hook, finds out she has useful information he needs, sparks fly and it sets her on a journey that will turn her life upside-down and give her sensations she's never known before...Set before Season 1. /CaptainSwan.
1. Starting Out

**Hi guys! ****So, this story is focused more on modern setting, and sort of stemmed from the idea of Emma starting out in the Bail Bonds world after Neal had left her in jail, and her life with a certain Pirate being introduced a whole lot sooner ;) Rated M to be on the safe side (and for later scenes! ;) ) and mild language.**

**Hope you like! **

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She squirmed restlessly in the heavy wool blanket, closed eyes rolling about, laden with a pained anxiety.

"No…don't," she moaned in her sleep, the words reaching empty walls and spitting her fear back in her face.

With a strained cry, her eyes blinked suddenly open. Soft, dull beams of pale morning light drifted in from her cell window.

She took a deep, steadying breath and brought her knees to her chest, huddling in the dingy bed.

A moment later, her ears perked up to the rusty grated sound of a key turning in the lock of her cell door, and an expressionless, uniformed woman stepped inside.

"Term's up, Swan," she said, in a monotonous drone that sounded bored and dissatisfied. "You're free to go."

Emma took a quick intake of breath, staring back dazedly at the official for one frozen moment. The woman started to narrow her eyes in annoyance, when Emma took another deep breath and rose to her feet.

"Thank you," she mumbled, starting to walk past the woman into the hallway, but the latter caught her arm.

"It's your life, Swan," she murmured gravely. "Try to make it a better one this time."

Then she released her, and they were walking down the long, grey corridor.

-i-.-i-

Emma's hand quivered ever so slightly as she reached for the knob and opened the dark wooden door. A brilliant blue sky blasted back at her, the sun winking merrily off of lampposts and cars. It felt—foreign, garishly too bright.

She clenched her hands lightly and, with a labored breath, took a step forward into her new freedom.

-i-.-i-

She looked from the scrap of notepaper in her hand to the dingy blue sign above her head: _**DEREK M**__**'**__**KEETER**__**'**__**S BAIL BONDS**_ in large block letters. Shoving the paper in her back pocket, she opened the storefront door and stepped in.

The little office building was a shabby two-room unit with a monotone beige color scheme that was just a little too heavily air-conditioned and reeked of stale cologne.

A big-busted red-head in an all-too-revealing blue top looked up from the desk in the corner as the jingle of the overhead bell rang out Emma's arrival.

"Can I help ya?" she questioned disinterestedly.

"I'm looking for Derek M'Keeter?" Emma replied, stepping towards the desk.

"Little Emma Swan!" A hearty voice rang out, clouded in a thick Boston accent. Emma turned to see the 6'2" muscled young man with the usual disheveled brown hair and toothy, dimpled grin stride towards her from the back office. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. Derek M'Keeter had resided with her during many of her years of differing foster parents, and had often taken up the role of older brother before he'd reached the age of independence and left the system.

"Hi Derek," she murmured, a little embarrassed.

"What can I do for ya, Emmy?" he inquired jovially as he reached her.

"I was looking to see if you had any opportunities open? Trying to start fresh."

Derek cocked an eyebrow.

"Here to join the side of the angels, babe?"

Emma felt a pang in her stomach. She didn't want to think about what had made her decide to stop being on the side of the criminals and start chasing them, or, more specifically, _who_ had brought about that decision….

"Eight months in a cell'll do that to you," she mumbled. "And I'd hardly call you an angel, 'Keeter." Her mouth turned up in the vague semblance of a smile, and Derek grinned back at her as he pulled both hands to his chest.

"You wouldn't want to dent a poor man's reputation, surely?" he said in a mock affronted tone. "Although I'm not ashamed to say I was your original tutor, just not loud enough for the cops to hear a'course."

A chuckle gurgled from the back of Emma's throat, and Derek threw her a wink.

"I'm sure we have somethin' for ya, babe," he said, straightening. "Margery, what are we lookin' at with cases?"

The red-headed 'Margery' gave a displeased sniff from the corner, clearly unimpressed with Emma Swan.

"You're pretty well off, Derek," she said, and then turned to Emma. "Sorry, don't think we have anything for you right now, hon."

Emma cocked her head to one side as she assessed the red-head.

"…I'm not really sure I believe that," she said slowly, her eyebrows knitting together, and Derek gave out a hearty laugh.

"No good tryin' to pull the wool over on this one, doll," he said to his assistant, shaking his head. "She's got a special superpower; human lie-detector. Woulda' made a good cop." He froze for a moment and then turned back to Emma. "Say, Emmy, thats a good idea. I think I know how we can put those powers a' yours to good use."

Derek moved into his own office and emerged a moment later with a manilla folder.

"This should be right up your alley, Em," he said, handing her the folder. "We can start ya as a recovery agent, reco'nizin' and chasin' down perps."

"You mean like a bounty hunter?" Emma asked, thumbing through the files, the snapshots of the bail-skippers moving by like a flip book of angry caricatures. Derek grinned again.

"Yeah, sorta," he agreed. "I even gotta' gun and a pair'a 'cuffs I could letcha borrow, if you promise to be good a' course."

The vision of satisfyingly slapping a pair of silver handcuffs on Neal's gruff wrists and hauling his ass into custody flashed into her mind. She blinked it away, but the resolve remained.

"I'll take it," she stated.

"Atta' girl." Derek winked.

-i-.-i-

Half an hour later, they sat in his little beige office, facing one-another across the wide desk. The gun was holstered securely at her hip beneath the faded vest she wore, and the handcuffs tucked safely in her abdomen pocket.

Derek took a paper-clipped stack of files out of the manilla folder, and slid the top one across the table to Emma. Attached at the top was the picture of a strikingly beautiful woman in her middle-to-late 30's, scowling at the camera with a black block sign in her hands.

"Coraline Mills," Derek said as Emma picked up the file. "Known to the darker side a' town as the 'Queen a' Hearts.' Whether that's cause a'her fancy of the male gender or relates to some a' the darker stuff she does in the criminal world I don't know and I don't ask."

Emma nodded solemnly, her eyes skimming the page.

"This is the top case right now, biggest priority," Derek said, pointing to the file. "The cops were after her fa' years, for some pretty hefty crimes; never able ta' find any proof, though. It looked pretty bleak until they were finally able to catch her on a flimsy truspassin' charge." Here he paused his dialogue to pull out another file, this time with no photograph.

"But she had a partner. This here's her current boy toy; likes to go by the colloquial a' 'Hook.' He bailed her out, but she never showed up for the court date. That's where you come in. You go after her, we get our cut. 10%."

Emma nodded slowly, showing her understanding.

"Any idea where I should start?" she asked, green eyes looking up inquiringly.

"I'd start at the bar she used ta' frequent," Derek said, pulling out the last file. "The Jolly Roger."

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**And who do we possibly know what could be at The Jolly Roger :) Next part up soon! **

**Lemme' know what you guys think in the review section below!**


	2. The Jolly Roger

**Chapter 2, in which you meet Mr. Dashing Rapscallion himself ;) **

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She stomped with an over-eager swagger of confidence up the stone steps. The faded, rust-bitten sign swung with a whispered creak above her head: "The Jolly Roger."

As she pushed the door open, the ping of a bell rang out her presence for the second time that day, echoing through the seemingly empty establishment. Faded yellow light filtered softly through the window blinds, just enough that she could make out her surroundings. The bar was all wood, from the furnishings to the wall panelings, and was tidy and clean, much like the inside of a ship's cabin (she smirked at the irony of the bar's name), but with a deep red decor that gave off a decidedly seductive appeal.

She wandered through the neatly stacked chairs, taking everything in, when a rich, warm voice rasped out behind her.

"I'm afraid the bar's closed, love."

She whirled around, hand flying instinctively and defensively to her hip and hovering over the concealed holster.

A pair of crystal blue eyes, reminiscent of rolling sea waves, grinned back at her from behind the bar.

Her eyes quickly skimmed over the accompanying form of that amused, captivating gaze. Dark jeans hung low on his hips, encompassed by a wide leather belt that she tried telling herself wasn't the least bit sexy. Further up his delectable form, a black dress shirt stretched squarely across his lean, toned frame, the unbuttoned V of the deep neckline exposing a swirl of dark hair across his pecks.

She's unimpressed. Or at least that's what she repeats to herself.

The figure opposite from her seemed less than convinced, and his grin spread.

"Something I can _help_ you with, love?" he asked with a slow step forward, the sophisticated accent rolling off of his tongue like molten silver, warm and seductive.

She blinked back. Then shook herself and cleared her throat. She had a job to do and this wasn't the time or place for…distractions.

"My name is Emma Swan, Mr.—," she paused.

"Killian Jones," he supplied, leaning towards her against the bar with a dark eyebrow raised. "But you're welcome to call me whatever you like."

Cocky bastard.

She cleared her throat again.

"Mr. Jones. I'm here for some information on one of your regular customers. Can you tell me anything about a Coraline Mills?"

His gaze momentarily darkened, and then a smile touched his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You're acquainted with Cora?"

"I'm her—…bond recovery—agent," Emma stuttered out, trying to maintain an impassive expression.

The devilish grin quickly reappeared on his face.

"A bounty hunter then, Ms. Swan? Quite the pirate, now, aren't we?"

_A memory flitted into her mind; the soft husky whisper of her lover's voice in her ear as she'd unearthed her latest steal and he'd drawn her close, kissing the top of her head: "You're my sweet pirate." _

Emma took a deep steadying breath, and when she spoke her tone was acidic.

"Pirates are for fairytales. And as Ms. Mills' _recovery agent_, it's my job to find her, bring her in, and let the _law_ deal with her."

Killian held up a placating hand, and ran his tongue along the hollow of his cheek in a way that absolutely did not cause an intrinsic, stiffening reaction in her groin.

"Alright," he agreed. "I'll give you that. But I'm afraid you won't find Cora here. I haven't seen her in a number of weeks, as a matter of fact."

Just as a sigh of defeat escaped Emma's lips, a feminine voice rounded the corner from the back.

"Hook, darling, what's taking so long, I almost—"

Emma's eyes widened and Killian went rigid at her side at the figure who now stood frozen in the doorway, her dark eyes glued on Emma.

"Coraline," Emma murmured, and the woman's eyes narrowed.

"Hook, what the hell is going on here?" she said, starting to move towards them when Emma's hand flew to her holster, producing the weapon and training it on Cora.

Killian's jaw flexed, and his eyes darted to Emma.

"I wouldn't suggest—"

But Emma cut him off, turning to face him and bringing the gun to focus on him.

"You lying sack of shit," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Killian held up both arms, backing up a step, and Emma's frenzied mind paused as she took in the detail she'd missed before: on his left arm, where his hand would normally be, stretched a prosthetic hook, it's silver tip gleaming in the now dull orange light.

Suddenly, there was a flurry of movement, and before Emma could shake herself back to reality, Cora knocked down a barstool in her direction and bolted back through the door behind her.

"Shit!" Emma cried, her gun still pointed at Killian.

"Swan, listen to me," he murmured hastily, his voice deep and guttural, imploring.

Before he could finish, Emma shakily whipped the pair of cuffs from her vest pocket and clamped one end on his exposed wrist, linking the other cuff firmly to metal bar rail.

Panic clouded Killian's crystalline eyes.

"Swan, what are you doing?" he said, his voice a husky whisper.

"Going after her," Emma stated firmly, kicking the barstool out of her way and sprinting to the back door.

"No, Swan!" Killian cried. "SWAN!"

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**...To be continued ...**

** Lemme know what you guys think :) (and I'll try and write sooner this time! School is finally over...)**


	3. Undercover

**So when I wrote the last part, I intended for it to be written with the next part quickly following. So here you lovelies go :) Part three**

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Her breath was ragged in her chest, reminding her that the last year in jail had kept her painfully out of shape, and her lungs ached as she pushed herself to keep running.

Cora seemed to have vanished entirely.

No. _Shit_. She'd _had_ her. She'd been no more than three feet from the woman. And even if she caught her now, how was she supposed to detain her? She didn't want to think about the delectable reason her cuffs were already in use… _Idiot_, she mentally chastised herself.

Her frantic eyes darted back and forth, and she was slowing to a defeated stop when a flicker of movement at the end of the alley caught in her peripherals. With a quick belabored breath, she took off at a sprint down the grimy stretch.

As she came out into the sunlight, she grunted in disappointment when, again, no-one was in sight, and she was about to turn back when a dark figure tackled her, knocking them both to the ground.

Emma winced painfully, picking herself up from the concrete.

"What the hell—," she started, but stopped at the pair of eyes that met hers. Killian. Or 'Hook.' She didn't care to find out, and was reaching for the gun that had toppled to the sidewalk when he put out a hand.

"Don't," he growled, rising to a standing position above her and pressing a foot over the weapon. She glared up at him, steeling herself for whatever he was about to do next, but his returning gaze held more irritation than malice, and he pulled a hand through his dark hair in frustration.

"Do you know how many months of careful planning and strategic work you just destroyed?" he demanded irately. Emma's brows knit together in confusion. Killian gave an exasperated eye-roll and reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a leather square with a distinctive gold emblem on it.

"Killian Jones, Detective," he stated with gritted teeth. "So while I may indeed be a bastard, I'm not a lying one, Ms. Swan. At least not to you."

Emma's chest tightened with a pang of embarrassment, but she continued to stare back up at the man in front of her, eyebrows still knitted steely.

"Then what were you doing with Cora, _'__Hook__'_?" she inquired, with more defiance than she really felt. Killian folded the square back over itself and returned it to his pocket before extending a hand down to her. Emma stiffened.

"I don't need your help," she muttered. He shrugged acceptance and withdrew his hand.

"I've been involved in an undercover operation regarding Cora Mills for some time now," he said as she rose to her feet. "One in which 'Hook' was a created persona for, and one that only a select handful of people knew of."

"Yeah, that sure worked out for you," Emma smirked. Killian frowned back at her.

"You've no idea what this cost me, love. That woman had connections to some very powerful people I've spent years chasing."

Emma shifted uncomfortably.

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry. Not exactly like you let me in on any of that before she showed up." The defiance crept back into her tone. "I had a job to do, I didn't know there was a line."

"Speaking of your aptitude for the _law_, perhaps you'd care to accompany me downtown to undo some damage, Swan? You are a witness now after all."

Emma's snarky smile faded into a straight line. She was not overly fond of police stations, and damnit if it didn't seem like she was always getting caged in, even on the side of the good guys.

"I'm not really sure that's necessary—"

"Oh but it is, Swan," Killian cut in, taking a step towards her, his nose inches from hers and a jeering smile lighting his lips. "See, you've created a rather nasty situation that I now have to find a way of cleaning up. It would be bad form not to help right the wrong, darling. Besides," He cocked an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering from hers. "You owe me."

Emma stared back, trying not tot let her breath hitch in her chest at his proximity, and raised her own eyebrow.

"Owe you?"

Killian gave a polite smile.

"Cora's a woman who gets what she wants, and isn't afraid to gun down the people in her way. _Trust me_; if I hadn't maintained the charade you so look on with such disdain, you mightn't be alive right now."

"I can take care of myself," Emma stated, her jaw setting.

"A simple thank you would suffice," he murmured, tongue returning to the hollow of his cheek, mild irritation icing his tone. Emma eyes flicked unconsciously from his eyes to his lips and back up. She quickly rolled her eyes, and stepped back to put some distance between them.

"Let's just get to the station and get this over with, Jones."

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**So this story is ending up to kind of be a Captain Swan/Leitenant Duckling AU mash-up of sorts. But don't worry, there's lots of fun to be had between these two ;) Thank you lovely people for reading, and don't forget to leave me a comment with your thoughts! I'll try to put up more soon *heart***


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